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The Letters to My Friends I Will Never Send: Vol.1

Here's to When Things Are Better Left Unsaid

I can’t tell whether or not I’ve been living in ignorance or if I'm actually just happy. We don't get happy, do we? We always lay in sadness, but I feel so strong and wide today. I’m talking to you and inviting you inside or inviting you to be vulnerable, but you’ve been slapped by pain and locked inside yourself by someone else. I don’t know how to communicate that to you.

I had a friend tell me recently that she appreciated an acquaintance because they asked a lot of questions. They were curious about her life, and that was something she finds admirable; asking questions. It's healthy to do so, no? We know so little, and she says this is a good quality in a friend. I’m working on it.

I feel that you and I are always at opposing positions in our lives. I love you no less this week than I did when I was in your shoes. I cannot know where you’re standing today. We are so so different, and I recognize our friendship is strong because of that. I felt hurt a few times this week. You can see that clearer on my face than most people, but then again, my expressions are louder than I intend. It's a flaw of mine, indefinitely. I'm exactly like my mother. I had someone else point out that if your friends are alternate versions of you, how can you grow from them? What kind of understanding can we have of the world if we spend all of our times with copies of ourselves? I'm glad I have you: my polar opposite.

I’m spending some time right now deciding to be content with the time we’ve spent. I can’t change our desires to go opposite ways throughout the day. I can't change the frustration I’m feeling over our lack of similar interests, our lack of crossover conversations; perhaps only because we spend so little time asking each other questions. Or maybe it's because I forget the answer so often. I don’t know why I forget things. I check out a lot. Maybe its a lack of dynamics in our topics lately. We used to know one another. You used to be interested in how I was feeling. I know you’re struggling with your own emotions. Why would you have time or energy to ask about mine. But you’re out of all energy. It's not even enough to talk about your feelings now. It's not even enough to gain momentum for more than a three-minute conversation. I put them all out of the table. You’re pushing my cards away with as much force as you’re able to muster.

It's incredible to me that we had someone give us such a memorable piece to take away from this trip. You don’t know how much it meant to me to have been given that experience. It was by your doing. You knew. We both felt so good walking into it. You don’t know how much power you have over our experiences. You are too strong to pretend you’re limp, lifeless or too tired. You’re angry, wasted and TRAPPED. How many times can I watch this? You just mentioned another vanity point that made you feel better about yourself. I don’t mind when you do those things, but I know it is not making you feel better. Are you even interested, or are you still thinking about him in the back of your mind? I’m just glad someone else kept your attention for longer than I can.

Why did I let myself do that? I should have been stronger for you because I needed to make an example of myself. You’re telling me the way I lose things has been getting excessive. I don’t know how this affected you so much. It wasn’t your wallet. You know it was stolen somehow. I didn’t have a panic attack, although it was so confusing I couldn’t comprehend it. Things can be just as out of control in your life, but why am I the one that has to respond rationally. Why am I so angry with you right now…

This is not a glory game. This is not victorious. You know I’m upset. You won’t speak. You aren’t listening. You aren’t alive. Even if you didn’t end up doing it. I’m on a rollercoaster for you, because I love you so much and I don’t know how to tell you from where I’m sitting. You love me, and you trust me, but you wish it weren’t me. You wish it was him. I don’t know how to help, because I know you don’t want me to and you’re too proud to ask or receive. Flush your ego down the toilet, because it's wound itself around your insecurity.

It's funny to me how much the rest of the world is disinterested. You have no idea, because you don’t care. You don’t even know that my piece was dedicated to you. You don’t even know and you couldn’t care to ask.

I’m sorry. This is harder than I thought. I love you, and I miss knowing how to fix you.